


Custody Challenge

by sehrrhes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Black Family Drama (Harry Potter), Black Family-centric (Harry Potter), Duelling, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, POV Multiple, Romantic pairings exist but are not the focus, The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, characters' personal views are not necessarily my own, made-up laws and customs, the wizarding world canonically has horrible Latin so don't mind me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:27:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26938888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sehrrhes/pseuds/sehrrhes
Summary: This is the story of something that altered Sirius and Regulus Black's entire lives. But it isn't their story.
Relationships: Alphard Black & Regulus Black, Alphard Black & Sirius Black, Cassiopeia Black & Sirius Black, Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Black Malfoy, Orion Black/Walburga Black, Regulus Black/Original Female Character(s), Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 7
Kudos: 66





	1. Cassiopeia (1)

If anything, Cassiopeia Black rather disliked her great-nephew Sirius. Not just because he had sorted Gryffindor, but rather that he had taken the passionate, reckless intensity that was part of being a proper Black, and twisted it into Gryffindorishness: brashness, recklessness, disregard for all social niceties; disreputable clothes, disreputable friends, disreputable Muggle enthusiasms; parroting of progressive ideas, adulation of Albus Dumbledore and his ilk, and determined and wilful ignorance of any kind of magic that might possibly be labelled ‘dark.’ Cassiopeia was a Dark Witch and a serious scholar, and she had little patience for any child that didn’t even put in an effort when being schooled on their birthright as a Black.

Regulus didn’t have a tenth of Sirius’ natural aptitude for proper, ancient magic, the kind that sang in the blood. But he _worked at it_ , and at least his theoretical understanding was good. He was a sweet boy, even if he would never be half the duelist his mother was. Dear Walburga had been Cassiopeia’s first pupil; Bellatrix the one who had gone furthest, though her keenness for the subject had rather outstripped her self-mastery, to the point where it was more true to say the Dark Arts had mastered _her_ than the reverse. These things happened sometimes.

Cassiopeia was not at all close to Sirus, and Alphard frequently exasperated her. But that wasn’t the point. There was a reason her wand was backing Alphard’s; a reason why it was a two-versus-two honour duel, rather than the two-on-one challenge Alphard had initially made.

Cassiopeia Black knew where her duty lay. The House of Black needed her.


	2. Alphard (1)

For all Alphard Black presented himself as a cosmopolitan man-of-the-world, a dilettante, a man of good family but no real personal consequence, he was still a Black through and through. He knew the old traditions, the old rituals. Even the ones that weren't generally used any more.

Like the _heredem approprio_ challenge. A form of honour duel, intended for intrafamilial use, or at most, between connections by marriage disputing the custody of an orphaned child with whom they both shared blood.

It was a duel fought to death, incapacitation or yielding; and Alphard had made the challenge knowing his own death was the most likely outcome.

He didn't want to die. He loved life; had earned his reputation as a _bon vivant_. He enjoyed fine dining, chamber music, robes cut from the finest fabrics. A good book, the lure of an intellectual challenge, the joy of an unexpected find or a sound bargain. His 'hobby' buying and selling antiques, dabbling with enchanted objects, actually made up more than two-thirds of his income, even if he was officially a man of leisure, supported by family money. And he enjoyed it. He'd settled his affairs, of course, when he'd decided to make the challenge. But he didn't really want to relinquish his life. To let other people sell the goods he had amassed in his warehouse; to leave the challenge of refurbishing that particular lectern or de-cursing that particular grimoire to somebody else.

He'd simply felt he had no choice.

For years, he had tried to make up to his nephews and nieces what he felt they were lacking from their parents. It was he who took them shopping for Yule gifts, and for each other's birthdays. He tried to set them a good example, showed interest in their hobbies and concerns, their development as witches and wizards and as people. He took them to museums and places of historical interest; to concerts and Quidditch matches; praised them for every milestone, every achievement, every skill learned. Encouraged them to look out for each other, to support each other, and chided them gently if they were ever unkind to a sibling or cousin. Family, he told them, was important.

At least with Cygnus and Druella, he only had to contend with mild neglect, benign indifference, too much leaving the girls to the house-elves while Cygnus went on Nogtail hunts and Druella attended Society events; while Cygnus disappeared into gentleman's clubs and Druella had endless dress-fittings and afternoon teas with the _crème de la crème_. They were not cruel to their daughters, only distant.

But Orion and Walburga were another matter. Orion was mercurial. Alphard liked a drink or two himself, but Orion would drink until his magic was out of control, until it obeyed his emotions rather than his wand or will. His outbursts were rare, but terrifying when they happened, like accounts of Obscurials. The rest of the time, he was content to hide in his office, and leave the discipline of his children to his wife. And Walburga - well. His sister had been a vicious child, and had grown into a vicious woman. She had high expectations of her sons, and was frequently disappointed. For years Alphard had heard her berate them, watched them flinch, and held his tongue, or spoken gently, tactfully. It would do the boys no good, he told himself, if he was barred from seeing them altogether, if the little support he could provide was taken away.

But he couldn't live with himself if he stood back and let her keep casting the Unforgiveables on his nephews.

Not to speak was to speak. Not to act was to act.

He hadn't expected Aunt Cassie to back him. She was his polar opposite in so many ways, and she'd never had much time for him. It offended her sense of the rightness of things, he knew, that a Black should have such a genial and harmless public persona. Let alone that most of it was actually real. He knew that on a personal level, she liked Walburga better than him, always had.

But in the end, she had chosen him over her protegée. If only for the sake of the House's continuance, or so she said. He didn't know whether or not to believe her. But in the end, it didn't matter.

She felt he'd be a better guardian to Regulus and Sirius than the boys' parents were. To the point where she was risking her life to ensure it.

It was enough.


	3. Narcissa

For Narcissa Black, this was a nightmare. Twenty-four hours previously, she had been happily settled at Hogwarts for the 'Easter' Holidays, revising for her NEWTs and fine-tuning her wedding planning. Now, she was sitting on a spectators' bench in the Ministry arena, acting as Sirius and Regulus' designated neutral adult, as apparently she was the only person all four combatants would approve. On one side, she had her arm around Regulus, who was hiding his face in her shoulder. On the other side, Sirius vibrated with anger, his fists clenched, staring into the duelling circle with the same fixed look as her. He didn't seem to want to accept more overt gestures of affection, but he was sitting close enough that their legs were touching. The only other people present were various DMLE officials and Wizengamot representatives. The Minister herself would levitate the handkerchief for the start of the duel.

No-one could intervene. Not unless one side yielded, or somebody kept attacking after both their opponents had been clearly incapacitated. The Ministry officials were simply there to witness. They couldn't even prosecute if any spells were cast that would otherwise be illegal. No-one could call it off, not unless the paterfamilias, Arcturus Black, emerged from his castle and gave judgement; and he hadn't had any contact with any member of the family since his sister Lycoris' funeral in 1965.

Narcissa had got the whole horrible story out of the boys the previous night. It was her own upcoming marriage that had precipitated the revelation: apparently, one of her wedding gifts was some sort of enchanted item, with calligraphy from both boys forming part of the design. Sirius' hands had been shaking too much for him to write neatly, and Alphard knew, better than anyone, what Sirius' handwriting was normally like. He took him to a Healer, and they found a great deal of nerve damage: not firm enough evidence of the Cruciatus curse to convict a pureblood noblewoman, with no independent, of-age witnesses, and _priori incantamentum_ not an option, but enough that it was clear what had happened, and Sirius eventually confirmed it. And then when they went to Gringotts to collect phoenix tears from Alphard's vault for Sirius' treatment, the Goblins set off the Thief's Downfall, and Regulus had had something of a nervous breakdown, right there in the cart, because the voice in his head telling him how to behave was gone. Not the crude version of the Imperius that required the caster's continued concentration in order to puppet the victim, but a number of subtle compulsions.

Alphard had made the challenge publicly, himself against both Walburga and Orion, at the Spring Equinox party for the extended Black family. Alphard, the man who had taught Narcissa to fly a broom, who had cherished her first childish attempts at embroidery, who had owled her at least once every two weeks throughout her Hogwarts career; the man whom Narcissa had been able to beat in a duel, three bouts out of four, since she was fifteen. Foolish, kind, stubborn Uncle Alphard.

Eugenia Jenkins was walking down the stairs now, handkerchief already raised. It floated gently to a spot twelve feet above the exact middle of the duelling circle. It began to fall. It had scarcely touched the sand when a green bolt of light shot from Aunt Walburga's wand, straight at her brother. His conjured bronze shield shattered, and the fragments turned into tiny bats, which his _oppugno_ then directed towards his sister and brother. Aunt Cassiopeia threw herself at her protegée; they were wholly engrossed in each other, casting so fast that Narcissa couldn't even follow, barely recognised half the spells. She hadn't realised Aunt Cassiopeia was still holding back quite so much with her.

Uncle Orion had clearly spent much of the night drinking. His conjured dogs were barely recognisable as such, but the aura of magic around him was growing. If Cassiopeia had Walburga on the back foot - which she barely did, the two were closely matched and intimately familiar with each other's style - Orion had Alphard wholly on the defensive. He seemed to be doing very little but shield. Orion actually fetched out a hipflask and had a swig or two while they were fighting; a gesture of contempt if ever Narcissa saw one, but also public proof of quite how far out of hand Orion's alcohol problem had got. Under normal circumstances, that would be a public embarrassment for the family, but set against the scandal of the duel itself, it was nothing. Then Orion choked, shouted something incoherent, and fell, apparently lifeless. Walburga went for a conjuration-and- _oppugno_ , to gain breathing space, and tried a diagnostic. Cassiopeia intercepted. It took her three tries before she actually managed to complete the spell, and when she did, she howled, and started some sort of blood-based runic casting. Cassiopeia finally got a curse to connect just as Walburga finished her own casting: both siblings dropped to the sand.

"I claim victory," called Cassiopeia. Healers rushed in, and Narcissa saw her take the arm of one of them, gesturing between Walburga and Alphard. The healer called down the Minister, and one of the DMLE officials. There was a hasty consultation. Aunt Cassie was apparently making a wand oath.

"I swear on my wand that the magic I am about to cast on my niece and erstwhile opponent is only to undo the curse she placed on herself and her kin, and is not intended to do further harm to her."

It was only then that Narcissa looked at the boys, and realised they were both on the verge of fainting.

"I need a Healer up here!" she called. "And somebody should check on my father, too! Cygnus Black. He's as much her brother as Uncle Alphard is, and if it affected the boys at this distance, it might have hurt him, too." Aunt Cassie and the Senior Healer were drawing ritual circles on the sand. Uncle Alphard had two healers maintaining life-support spells on him. Another Healer was examining Uncle Orion's hipflask contents.

"Who on earth drinks Draught of Living Death in the middle of a duel?" he asked, bemusedly. One of Alphard's Healers started going through his pockets, and held up another flask.

"Check for Switching Spell residue," she called out. "Either he wanted to throw the duel - unlikely - or he thought he was just drinking Firewhisky."

"Ciss..." Sirius rasped. "Uncle Alph..."

"He's still alive, Sirius," she reassured him. "Still alive. The Healers are working on him. He isn't going to die." She couldn't bear to think she might be made a liar in the next few hours. He had to pull through. If the spell had to kill somebody, let it be Walburga; she cast it. Or even Father. Not Alphard. Sirius' eyes flickered closed. Another Healer was conjuring stretchers for both boys, slapping monitoring charms on them, setting up visual displays for all four. The ritual circle around Walburga was growing in complexity, four more spaces opening up on its periphery. Alphard. Sirius. Regulus. The last one must be for Father, she thought. They won't be able to break it until someone brings him. A silver rabbit appeared before the Senior Healer, and spoke with a man's voice.

"He was at the Herne Club," it said. "He's being stabilised for transport now. Nobody's answering the Floo at his residence, so next of kin consent is still pending." Shakily, Narcissa cast Tempus, and lurched down to the arena floor.

"It's 2.45," she said. "I think the first fitting for the bridesmaids' dress robes was supposed to be 3pm, and Mother would have wanted to supervise, as would Mrs Malfoy. See if they've got to Twillfit & Tattings yet, and if they're not there, try Summerisle's. I'm his daughter; if there's nobody else, I can take responsibility." She was shaking. Why was she shaking? It was over. The right side had won. Aunt Cassie looked up from her diagrams for a moment, and Narcissa mouthed _thank you_.

Another Ministry official seemed to want Narcissa to fill in some parchmentwork, since she was the only Black family member present who was neither incapacitated nor busy. She dutifully did what she could, and highlighted the places that would need signatures from the actual duellists. She filled in another form, indicating that she would take responsibility for the boys if they were released from the care of the Healers before Alphard was. Likely. And she could just take them to Hogwarts and turn them over to their Heads of House there. Sirius might want to see his friends, she supposed. She'd work something out. The next thing was the notice for the Prophet. It had to be done. Short and succinct was the way to go, she supposed.

'The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black announces that the custody of its youngest Heirs, Sirius and Regulus Black, has passed from their parents, Orion and Walburga Black, to their uncle, Alphard Black, as the result of a _heredem approprio_ duel held at the Ministry Arena, in which Alphard Black was seconded by his aunt Cassiopeia Black, while Narcissa Black served as _custos pro tempore_. Minister Eugenia Jenkins graciously officiated. All parties survived.' There. Hardly a word more than what was mandated, and it still made seventy-four words. At five knuts per word, the _Prophet_ would charge twelve sickles and 22 knuts. She fished a galleon out of her purse. Really, as the youngest daughter of the house, and one who was soon to relinquish the Black name, she ought not to be writing the announcement or paying for it; but who else was there?

At least once she married into the Malfoy family, she thought darkly, she would have a proper paterfamilias again. She didn't particularly like Abraxas Malfoy: his sense of humour was somewhat crass; his table manners were a noticeable mixture of British and French, and slightly wrong for the highest circles in either country; his clothes and personal ornamentation were frequently a little too ostentatious, and the colours sometimes clashed. But she was sure he wouldn't go around leaving things that were technically his business to someone who was still a Hogwarts student, and she knew he actually deigned to receive and answer owls.

Mechanically, on the parchment that was supposed to be for her Charms revision notes, she dashed off quick messages to Bellatrix; to Lucius; to Professor Slughorn; to Cousin Lucretia, Grandfather Pollux and Aunt Dorea. The other Blacks could be notified later, or find out from the paper, but those three had siblings, children, grandchildren involved. The healer confirmed that everyone would be transferred to St Mungo's once the ritual was done, so Narcissa included that in the messages, too. One of the DMLE workers offered to take her correspondence to the Ministry Owl Room for her, and she accepted gratefully. Now there was nothing to do but wait.

Her mother would be here any moment, lamenting the scandal.


	4. Alphard (2)

Alphard Black had to stay in St Mungo's until the beginning of June, and even then, he had to go back for various appointments, multiple times per week at first, tapering off gradually over the course of the year. He did the paperwork for the Undetectable Extension Charms that would transform the tiny spare room of his flat in Oxford into two large bedrooms, and stood (supported by a cane) on the platform at King's Cross to welcome his nephews home for the summer.

He attended Narcissa's wedding, only cried a little, and blamed it on his lingering illness. He did his best to stay away from Orion and Walburga, and to keep the boys away from them too. The really acrimonious fighting didn't break out until after the bride and groom had left, for which he was very thankful. He was, however, deeply saddened to see Bellatrix so lacking in judgement that she would call her Aunt Cassiopeia a blood-traitor. Poor girl. She'd had so much promise, as a child. And that marriage of hers really didn't seem very happy; but she didn't seem to want to confide in him any more, or have much to do with him in general, and she was a grown woman. She had to be left to make her own mistakes.

Over the next few years, he had many little chats with Minerva McGonagall and Horace Slughorn, not to mention the Potters and the parents of his charges' other friends. Sirius still acted out, still kept up a certain unreasoning prejudice towards Slytherin in general and certain Slytherins in particular, though he did grudgingly accept that not all Slytherins were bad, just most of the ones he knew. Regulus was still very timid about holding his own opinions, doing things he liked just because he enjoyed them, and making his own friends. Never a social butterfly, the removal of his mother's curses led to his being even more reserved. He spent much of his time at Hogwarts in the library, though he did join the Slytherin Quidditch team. The brothers were not particularly close; they had very different temperaments and interests, and tried each other's nerves unmercifully; but they had a certain family loyalty, at least. Sirius might call Regulus a colourless, weedy little swot; Regulus might call Sirius an unsubtle buffoon with no sense of class or dignity; but everyone at Hogwarts knew that to threaten one brother was to draw the ire and disfavour of the other. The conflict between the Death Eater movement and Dumbledore's supporters heated up; the battle-lines became increasingly clearly drawn, within and without Hogwarts. Alphard would really rather have stayed out of it; but Sirius, it became increasingly clear, would be an active participant as soon as he left school, on the opposite side from Bellatrix, who had no discretion whatsoever. Alphard also strongly suspected Narcissa's husband of involvement, as so many of his little Hogwarts protegés seemed to be heading that way: the indiscreet and unsubtle ones at that, which suggested many of the others were, too. He pretended not to know, and took tea with Narcissa every couple of months, as he did with Andromeda, and never spoke of either niece to the other. Nymphadora was a delight, and it saddened him that Narcissa would never know her niece.

Sirius never moved in with the Potters; he would wait to get a flat of his own until he'd finished Auror training, and then he planned to move in with Remus Lupin. They were thinking of having a bonding ceremony. Of course, the Ministry didn't perform them for same-sex couples, or indeed for werewolves, but the actual spells hadn't always been restricted by the Ministry, and Alphard knew people who knew people who could cast them, and did, for couples the Ministry disapproved of, for triads, and for those who wanted a little something extra in the bond's magic. (Cassiopeia could have done it herself, for that matter, but she would ask an acquaintance to officiate, rather than suffering through an entire day of Gryffindor foolishness herself, or giving the appearance of condoning a match between the Black Heir and a male werewolf.)

Regulus would never become a Death Eater: he faced a certain amount of pressure within Slytherin, but he told everyone he was more of an academic type, really, not a front-line fighter. It was even true. Alphard reminded him that there was a whole world out there, whereas the conflict was mainly focused on Britain. He helped Regulus write endless lists of pros and cons, plough through endless brochures, and really think about what he enjoyed and was good at, and what he would prefer to avoid.

With Regulus having emigrated, and Sirius about to finish Auror training, Alphard seriously considered following his own advice, and relocating for the duration of the conflict. He dithered for a long time between the relative merits of Paris, Lyon and Vienna, before setting up a combined warehouse and workshop in what had once been a barn, in one of the most rural and out-of-the-way areas to possess a 69 postcode. He was just on the verge of finalising a small _pied-_ _à_ _-terre_ in Vieux-Lyon when he was caught up in Diagon Alley by a Death Eater raid: one of three casualties who, survivors said, had saved several lives with his quick thinking and strong shields.

Sirius, Cassiopeia and Regulus all tapped their contacts as best they could, but as far as anyone could tell them, Alphard had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Bellatrix had recognised him, and he her. But she had no pity for blood traitors, and he had no stomach for fighting those he loved as if they had been his own children.

(Narcissa had fully deserved the O she got for DADA at OWL level. But she wouldn't really have been able to win three duels out of four against him, at that age, had she not been his niece.)

(Draught of Living Death wasn't just non-lethal; it was also one of the only knock-out drugs that wouldn't combine badly with high levels of blood alcohol, and it was far less unobtrusive than any of the poisons Alphard might have chosen.)

Alphard Black was the furthest thing possible from a blood-traitor, and in the end, it killed him. He had no regrets.


	5. Cassiopeia (2)

Cassiopeia Black not only survived the war, but lived long enough to see the House of Black truly resurgent. She hadn't exactly approved of Regulus leaving Britain for Canada upon his graduation; nor his enrolment as a student Healer at Toronto's wizarding hospital; still less had she approved of his engagement to a fellow Healing student, a half-blood from Montreal. Still, at least she was a witch, and the children would be pure-blood. Gradually, the tone of Cassiopeia's letters thawed, such that when the family moved back to Britain in order to facilitate the oldest child's Hogwarts attendance, all five of the youngest Blacks were quite enthused about meeting their Aunt Cassie in person, and she was prepared to dote on them, and be perfectly civil to their mother.

The oldest, her namesake, was a Ravenclaw; but she had hopes some of the others might make Slytherin.

She was not particularly fond of acknowledging Sirius Black as her Paterfamilias, but then he didn't really care for the role at all, and mostly avoided her. The boy had not grown less Gryffindorish with age; not even the six months he spent in Azkaban had sobered him. He wore Muggle clothing instead of robes, rode some kind of enchanted Muggle contraption instead of a decent broom, openly consorted with a werewolf, and fathered no children, content to raise his godson to be every bit as much of a foolish Gryffindor as he. Never mind. Little Alphard would make a fine Head of House, when the time came, and he at least was being brought up properly.

The Ancient and Noble House of Black continued, that was the main thing. Toujours Pur.

She'd done her duty.


End file.
